


So, This Was Life

by sunfirestrike



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverhell
Genre: First Meeting, Foster Family, New Beginnings, Other, Past Love, blame apple again y'all, jugson - Freeform, sabrina and jughead are platonic y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfirestrike/pseuds/sunfirestrike
Summary: Jughead meets his foster family.





	So, This Was Life

So, this was life now. It wasn’t hopeful or bright, but rather dim. It was pointless to argue with social services, Jughead told himself, they’d just dismiss you as a kid who doesn’t know what’s best for him. Which, to be fair, was probably true. For goodness sake, he tried to get his dad to be a better man and that ended up kicking him in the shin a couple dozen times. He tried to get his mom and Jellybean to come home but they were better off in Toledo and didn’t want him there. He tried to get over the murder of Jason Blossom his… Something. He was never quite sure what they were to one another, he knew they both wanted each other, wanted to be each others, but maybe putting a label on it made it all too real. Putting a label on it made it true, made it a thing that they would have to tell people, it made them have to admit what they felt toward one another. Both of them were too scared to do it. He regrets it every time he wakes up. He can’t change it, no one can, but the words creep into his mind and make his sleep restless that maybe he could have stopped it. Maybe if he had just been brave and told him, Jason wouldn’t have gone to that river. Maybe Clifford Blossom wouldn’t have killed his son. Maybe Jason would still be here and with him and happy.

Happy: feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, situation, etc. Feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, that was fucking impossible for him. For right now, for the foreseeable future, for the distant future, hell, forever. They say the teenage years are some of your most formative, if his first few were anything to go by, things were only going to get worse for one Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third.

He was in the Southside now, going to Central High with all the rejects. People like him, who weren’t bad people, but in bad situations. That’s what everyone saw them as, they were just bad situations. He was going to be living with a foster family and he didn’t know what to expect. The kids at Central all had horror stories of their own with foster parents, but some were good, most were good, but the ones that weren’t. Well, they really weren’t. He could only hope he’d get one of the good ones. A duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he walked up the concrete steps, a metal fence surrounding the rather… unkempt pale blue home. He rang the doorbell, his anxiety going straight to sweaty palms and shaking his leg.

The door opens with a loud creaky sound and two… nice enough looking women open the door. They’re both blonde, one appears to be a couple of years older than the other, the younger appearing one being shorter. The older one has large red rimmed glasses covering half her face, and a kind smile on her lips. She grins at him, both of them have certain twinkles in their eyes that somehow tells him they live above the norm. The older one speaks first, after a moment of assessing. 

“You must be, Forsythe,” Her kind voice is silky, light and intelligent sounding, “I’m Zelda and this is my sister, Hilda. Welcome to our home!” There’s the slightest hint of a Scottish accent wrapped around her words. 

Jughead smiles at them timidly, he was more nervous than he would ever admit to be living in a stranger’s home. Hilda hadn’t said anything yet and they were still standing in the doorway, did they not like him already? He realized he hadn’t replied to Zelda and that they were staring at him weirdly. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m Forsythe, everyone calls me Jughead though,” he tells them, “uh, your home looks… homely.” He cringed at his own wording. 

Hilda nearly busted out laughing at this, a smirk on her face.

“It looks like shit, kid. We know, no need to try and hide it.” The sarcastic smile on her face gave him some relief, at least they weren’t sticks in the mud. “Well, let’s get inside and you settled in,” she said, motioning with her hand for him to come in, stepping away from the door.

As soon as he stepped in the warm aroma of burning sage tickled his nose, making it twitch. The interior was nicer than the outside, warm toned walls and comfy cushions sat around the room, rugs covering almost every inch of hardwood floor. He laid his duffel down in a large armchair and sat down, the chair practically swallowing him, a cloud of hair fogging up the air around him. A black cat came running down the stairs, the pitter-patter of it’s feet echoed slightly against the wood. Zelda frowned at this, did she not like her own cat? She seemed to notice his staring, she moved to pick up the cat, much to its protest.

“Oh, I do hope you aren’t allergic to cats, I’m afraid Salem here sheds quite a bit in the warmer months.” The cat struggled to get away from her, meowing loudly at her. Salem managed to squirm out of her grip and head right on over to the arm chair. “Salem!” Zelda scolded, while Hilda went into the kitchen to do something or another. He thought he heard another voice come from their, high-pitched and crowing about something that sounded like catty gossip. Salem rubbed against his legs, purring as loudly as possible.

“I’m not allergic, Salem seems like a nice cat,” he said, though not quite true. Salem seemed like a bit of a dick. As if Salem had heard his thoughts the cat dug his claws into Jughead’s shin. “Ah! Bad kitty!” He yelled. Zelda shook her head and came over, scooping Salem up into her arms and she sat down on the couch.

“I’m afraid you’re in his spot,” she tells him. Jughead raised his eyebrows.

“The cat has a spot? That he will fight you for?” Jughead could have sworn he heard a male voice mutter, “Yes, you beanie wearing wannabe.” Jug shook his head, perhaps everything that had happened to him was getting in his head. A night in a warm bed in Jason’s arms would do him good. Jason wasn’t here anymore though. His bed could never be warm again. He blinked a few times, trying to get the memories out of his field of vision. Zelda scolded the cat again, her Scottish accent getting a little thicker and harder to understand because she was whispering.

Hilda came out from the kitchen carrying a tray filled with a teapot and cups on it, sugar, cream and milk too. “Now, Jughead, tell us about yourself,” Hilda said, setting the tray down on the coffee table, then sitting next to Zelda, her hand resting on her chin and leaning forward. Jughead grabbed a cup of tea, plopping 3 spoonfuls of sugar into it and take a long sip before answering. It had been awhile since he had a drink that hadn’t gone cold  
“Well, there’s not much to tell to be honest, nothing I’m sure you wouldn’t know, living on the Southside and all.” Zelda nodded, appearing to let it go, but Hilda perked up, clearly interested in whatever information he might share.

“Oh, come now, Forsythe, there must be something interesting about yourself,” she replied in an overly cheery voice. Jughead thought for a moment, taking a long drink of hot tea.

“Well, I did finish writing a novel a little while ago…” he muttered into his tea, hoping they wouldn’t ask to read about it and the love affair between Riverdale’s Red King and the weird kid who always wore a beanie.

“Oh, that sounds lovely, Jughead. I’ve published a couple scientific papers in my time,” was Zelda’s reply.

“Can we read it?” Was Hilda’s. 

“Hilda, I’m sure he doesn’t want two ol’ broads poking around in his novel,” Zelda chided her sister.

“What, I’m out of reading material and I run a clock shop. A clock shop Zelda. Do you know how many people need clocks when they just have their phones now?”

As if saving him for the moment the front door swung open, he could hear the distinct hum of a rock band coming through her earbuds all the way from his chair that was actually the cat’s.

“AUNT Z, AUNT HIL, I”M HOME!” The gravely feminine voice screamed from the entrance way. All of the people cringed from the pain in their eardrums, even the cat seemed to try and cover his. 

“JESUS GIRL, TURN DOWN YOUR MUSIC!” Hilda shouted back at the teenager, not seeming to get that yelling was the source of the pain. 

“WHAT?!” She yelled back, walking into the living after dropping her backpack on the floor and pulling off her shoes. Jughead finally got a clear view of her, long blonde hair, rounded features, a bit too much eyeliner, and wearing all black was a teenage girl he guessed to be the same age as him. 

Zelda stood, dropping Salem onto the floor much to his chagrin and tapped her earbuds to tell the still unnamed girl to take them out.

Zelda shook her head at the girl, her daughter? Her baby sister? Her cousin? 

“Take out your earbuds, dear, there’s someone we’d like you to meet,” she smiled and turned to him, “This is Jughead, he’s going to be staying with us for quite awhile.”

She smiled at him, for someone trying to look so intimidating he can’t help but notice that there’s a warmth… almost a sweetness that seemed to radiate from her. She stuck out her hand, blue eyes beaming, or perhaps that was the black eyeshadow that made them look like that.

“Hi, I’m Sabrina.”

Maybe, just maybe, life wouldn’t be so bleak with this new rocker sister in it.


End file.
